


Up and Down

by dancergrl1



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Barnum is mentioned, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancergrl1/pseuds/dancergrl1
Summary: He checked his pocket watch, and swore out loud. He’d missed lunch...by several hours. That’s what was causing it.--Philip disappears and Anne finds him in his office with a migraine. Fluff and a discussion ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HI, so apparently I'm on a roll with stories lately. Enjoy!

It started slowly, the pain just niggling at the back of his mind. It wasn’t new pain, and it wasn’t cause for concern. Philip strode towards his office. A little water, quiet, and rest wouldn’t go awry when he had the starts of a headache. As he walked, he analyzed where this may have come from. He’d eaten a light breakfast, just toast and tea, but that wasn’t off routine. His next thought causes him pause. He checked his pocket watch, and swore out loud. He’d missed lunch...by several hours. That’s what was causing it. Noticing a blind spot developing when he looked directly at the time, and something odd going on in the corner of his left eye, he doubles his pace. Maybe he can get comfortable and laid down before it really starts going. He considers a sip or 2 from his flask, but he promised Anne. He promised her. 

\--

Anne looked around for Philip. It was midday, and he wasn’t the type to disappear in the midst of all the chaos. She turned to Lettie, eyes hopeful. “Lettie, did you see Philip go anywhere?” 

Lettie points towards the offices. “Saw him practically running that way. Checked his watch and then started sprinting. I’d go after him if I were you.” Anne, thankfully still in her skirt and shawl, thanked her friend and rushed towards Philip’s office. Whatever had caused him to run off left a bad taste in her mouth. She burst through the flap to find him halfway out of his coat, and struggling with the buttons. 

“What...what are you doing here?” he asks,confused. He’d never had anyone with him through one of these, and it was shaping up to be a nightmare. 

Anne hurried over to him, and ran a hand over his forehead. He wasn’t warm, so where was the confusion coming from? Anne barely moved out of the way before Philip’s hand shot to his temple and his knees buckled. His knees hit the ground with an audible crack, and Anne rushed over. Philip was curled into himself, hand dug into his right eye. “Philip?” Anne said. With a visible wince, Philip motioned for her to be quiet. 

“The..the light” he ground out. 

Anne went over and put out the candle and switched off the lamp in the room, creating a dusky environment. “What now?” she said softly, getting a clue noise may hurt too. Philip could do nothing but gesture towards the cot he kept in the room, and Anne supported him on his way over. He all but collapsed onto it, and tried weakly to resist when anne pulled him back upright. “Nnn...no...no!” he mumbled, trying to just get to the point where he could sleep through the worst of it. Anne was undeterred. She had an idea of how to help, and his mumbling and resistance did nothing to stop her. She finished undoing the buttons of his shirt and peeled it off of him. She allowed him to lay down, and he promptly buried his head in the pillow. She dug through his closet and pulled out a pair of worn looking pants. They were softer and slightly bigger than the ones he usually wore, which were too tight on him to possibly be comfortable. She steeled herself, and changed his pants quickly. Not caring for the buttons on top, she covered him with the thick quilt from the small couch instead of the light comforter that was on the bed. It would help block out the light coming into the tent. She pulled herself up next to him and put his head on a pillow in her lap. She felt him relax, ever so slowly, and when he became boneless, she knew he’d fallen asleep. There was no doubt that she was going to stay right here until he woke up, and they were going to have quite the discussion when he did.  
\---  
Philip woke up improved, with the pain back down to a forgettable level and the wildness in his eyes a memory. He noticed his bed was warmer than usual, and only then did he realize that there was someone else in bed with him. He closed his eyes in embarrassment, and the heat that rushed to his face nearly brought a resurgence of the headache. Though he couldn’t see, Anne smiled above him. For once he actually had a competent caretaker in his life, and she was going to help him if she could. “Philip?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if noise would still bother him, so she decided to be cautious. He groaned and dug his head further into the pillow, but she saw the warm flush creep up his cheeks. “Philip…” she called teasingly. He turned and looked up at her, blushing as bright as if he had a fever. “Hello darling.” she said with a smile. 

“Hi,” he returned meekly. “What, ah, what are you doing here?” he asked. It wasn’t quite clear what had happened between checking his watch and waking. It usually ended up like that, except he usually woke up alone. 

“Went looking for you, lettie told me you had practically sprinted this way, and found you in here struggling to get your coat off. I got you into looser clothes, and then you slept, for about 3 solid hours. What...what happened?” She asked carefully. 

He sighed and sat up. Taking a moment to get his bearings, he arranged himself carefully. “Doctors have called it a migraine. It’s an extreme headache caused by a multitude of things. This one was because I didn’t eat lunch in a timely manner. Missing meals or skipping them, barring illness, will bring on on fairly quickly. Sometimes the lights will be too much and it’ll start right during the finale. I can avoid it long enough to let it grow right before I fall asleep and it’ll usually be gone by the time I wake. This one was rough-that’s why i slept so long. I had what they call an aura, which is a visual disturbance that’s not actually there. I don’t get those often, but when I do, I’m always looking for somewhere dark and quiet. Drinking water occasionally helps, but right now there’s no good treatment.” He finished, and stayed quiet. He knew it was a lot to take in, and he’d done enough research to know how to handle them as best as was possible. He wished for a solution, sure, but it didn’t exist yet. And that was ok. He could live. 

Anne suddenly latched onto him, and held him close. He dropped his head onto her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell anyone before now?” she asked, shocked. 

“There’s nothing to be done about it, and I’ve been handling them alone for years. It’s a matter of handling the things that set it off.” he responded casually. Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. 

“Alone?! What about your parents, what about at school, and in college?!” Anne asked, angry. Of all the things she’d heard about his parents, leaving him alone to suffer was the worst for her to hear. 

“They brought me to a doctor who told us about them, but after that, they didn’t see any way to help. They let me handle it. I was old enough to figure most of it out on my own.” he responded softly. Anne held him tighter, if that was possible. 

“Hey, Philip?” she asked, breaking the silence. It was late, the show had long since started, but they could be missed for one night. Lettie knew where both of them were. Anne was actually surprised that Barnum hadn’t come looking. He cared about Philip like a father. 

Philip looked up expectantly. 

“Next time, if you feel one coming...come get me?” she asked meekly. “I’d like to be able to help.”

Philip smiled. “I think I can try. I can’t offer guarantees, though. Sometimes they’re too fast.”

Anne offered a watery smile, and Philip decided to try something. “So now that that’s through...I’m kind of hungry.”

Anne laughed. “I think I can fix that.”


	2. Not again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip tried, but migraines have a mind all of their own.

Ever since Anne had found him in his office, she helped him without being obvious about it. She made sure he ate on a fairly regular schedule, and began noticing his headaches before he could. Philip didn’t realize how many tells he had of when they were coming on, and Anne caught onto all of them. 

He thought he was getting good at crafting excuses, well, she was a certified genius. He had just often ‘left something in his tent’ and disappeared for hours until everyone was content to leave him alone, or he’d skulk away with a sour look and everyone left him alone besides. 

Anne was a force of her own. She often needed something from the office, or needed him to consult on a new piece of her costume, or a myriad of other excuses that she concocted when she noticed him start to crack his neck or rub his head or, when it got really bad, try to put something cold against it.   
—  
One day, his avoidance and careful managing came to a head. As usual, Anne was looking for him for something legitimate, and noticed him in the darkest corner, hand dug into his temple, eyes squinted shut. “Philip?” She whispered. 

He grunted, which at this point was the only response he could muster. 

“Philip, look at me.” She said more forcefully, but equally as quiet. He raised his head, looking like a kicked puppy. “On a scale of 1-10, how badly does it hurt?” He hesitated, then held up 7 fingers. Anne winced, and her next question was far more pointed. “When did it start?” 

If Philip could have rolled his eyes, at this point they would have been in the back of his head. Then again, maybe that wasn’t a visual she needed with him in this state. 

She realized she still hadn’t gotten an answer. Right, probably the best thing was to get him set up to ride it out first. “Philip, I can’t carry you out in this state, I have to get someone to help.” He shook his head, realized it didn’t feel so hot, and resumed his position, curled up far smaller than even their contortionists could go. “Philip, I’ll be right back, I promise. I have to go get someone to help.” She said. Suddenly, she had an idea. “Philip, who do you want to help? Just put your thumb up when I say who you want, and thumb down if you don’t.” Philip squeezed the hand he found held out to him. She took that as an ok to start. 

“Barnum?” Immediate thumb down. She was a little surprised, but not particularly. Philip was a private man, and Barnum was decidedly...not. 

“Lettie?” Thumb down. Anne wasn’t sure why, but now wasn’t the time to question it. Tom was out, he simply didn’t fit the bill. 

“Constantine?” Thumb down. He had a point, the man was loud and that definitely wasn't what he needed right now. 

“WD?” Philip shrugged, then put a weak thumb up. “I’ll be right back, I promise, ‘lip.” Hearing her nickname for him, a smile flickered for a second. She squeezed his hand and walked off as calmly as she could pretend to find her brother. 

“WD,” she called cordially. “I need you for something!” Her brother swung down next to her lithely, landing lightly. She flashed a large, false grin and jumped up to hug him. “I need your help, I do, but you can’t tell anyone else about what you’re about to do, ok?” She whispered in his ear. WD nodded and let her down carefully. Now that they were behind the curtain, she pulled him along to where she’d left Philip. As they approached, she warned him, “Keep your voice down, it’ll hurt him more than he already is.” WD scrunched his eyebrows, but complied. 

Anne knelt and whispered “Philip? WD is here to help.” He groaned, but didn’t move. “C’mon, ‘lip. Just gotta get you to your tent, sweetheart.” She replied. WD, standing in the background, realized she’d done this before. She had to have, with the ease and practice she was showing. Anne sighed and looked back at him, as if she could read his mind. They’d been together too long to not be able to read the other. 

“Philip, WD and I are going to get you back to your office. But we need your help.” She said with more force, but not volume. She gestured for WD to get underneath his left arm, and she went under his right, carefully avoiding the side of his head. WD noticed it-he noticed everything about his sister’s careful, calculated movements. 

“If anyone asks,” she stage whispered to her brother, “We found him like this and assume he’s drunk. Nobody knows that he’s been sober for a while but me, but we’re gonna play it off today.” Her tone, even whispered, leaves no room for argument. 

“Ready Flip?” She asks. He tries to shake his head, but knows it’s not a good idea. They heave him up, and the mismatched pair supports him slowly through the circus. If anyone was looking, Anne’s steely glare rapidly redirected them. Philip’s groan makes her heart twist. She knows moving him is hurting him more, but it’s for the better. By some miracle and a bit of force, they make it to his tent. 

Anne turns to look at her brother. “Unless you want to help, now would be the time to leave.” She clips out, and then stifles a laugh at her brother’s reaction. Totally worth it, she thinks. While he stalks out of the tent, she hunts in the wardrobe for the few pieces of clothing they bought specifically for these occasions. The lightest, loosest pants and shirts available. She changes Philip with little help from the man himself, and then arranges him on the bed, she on his left side with his head on a pillow on her lap, a cool cloth on his forehead, and the thick blanket pulled over his eyes and ears. She wraps herself in the other blanket from the bed and pulls out the worn book on his bedside table. “Just you and me know darling.” She whispers lovingly. She settles in for a long evening, for it was going to be one. She analyzed what had happened that day, trying to figure out what had happened, and realized she hadn’t seen him since they had parted ways shortly after lunch. It was too early for dinner, not that he was likely to eat it now, and nothing else had been out of the ordinary all day. She remembered him telling her that sometimes they came on with no warning, no reasons, just the first bolt of pain. She was determined to ask him about it in the morning, which was likely to be the next time he was coherent. She looked around her for the water glass, and was pleased to see it near the pitcher, overturned so nothing would get into the glass, and the pitcher lidded for the same reason. It was within arms reach for when Philip likely woke disoriented and confused. She sat back and closed her eyes. She could do with a bit of rest as well.  
—  
Philip woke after dark with a gasp and a whimper, not that he would admit it. Anne was instantly alert next to him, and had a fleeting bitter thought of how this was becoming a pattern, she waiting for him to wake. Letting it go, she looked at him. The scrunched eyes and hand at his temple, along with the missing cloth, told her everything she needed to know. Embracing him and putting his face against her shoulder, she covered his ears. It was the light, and the noise from the show, that, even at this distance, were like knives, piercing him, tearing his ears apart and searing his eyes. She blindly reached for the water glass and pitcher, and laid him back down long enough to pour a glass. 

“Philip, try taking some water. It may help.” He shook as he took it, but a few sips later he handed it back. He couldn’t face the thought of swallowing anything. Having an idea, Anne began to run gentle hands and fingers lightly over Philip’s back, feeling how tense the muscles got as she trailed up his spine. She began to knead them slowly, to try and relax them. It may take some of the pain away, she figured. When she got to his neck, she saw results. The back massage had put him into a doze, but firmly rubbing the knots out of his neck did wonders. She could see some of the pain lines recede, and he slept deeper and wasn’t as insistent to dig his head through the pillow to block the noise and ambient light. She considered it a victory, and, keeping a hand on his neck, arranged herself for the night. She was asleep in record time.   
—  
The next morning found the two entangled with each other and the blankets. She looked at his face, for she was always the first one up after these episodes, and noticed the angelic look of his sleep, free from any pain lines. Deciding to let him sleep a bit, she took the initiative to start the morning tea, at least. The kettle was boiling and heating their space with the fire when he awoke, much more slowly than the last time. 

“Morning.” He groaned. He wasn’t a morning person on a good day, forget after an episode, as she called them. 

“Morning sweet pea.” She stated quietly. When he didn’t scrunch up his face like the volume hurt him, she dared to breathe a small sigh of relief. “Come have some tea. We can join the others later for something filling, if you’re up to it.” He nodded dumbly and shuffled over. Sitting down hard, he groped for the cup. She smiled. Decidedly not all the way awake, then. She pulled the cup away and fixed the tea for him. He was adorable when he was still half asleep. “Philip, can...can we talk, later today?” He shrugged. Undeterred but concerned, she continued. “I’d really like to know more, so I can help better.” He nodded, and Anne noticed he kept glancing back at the bed longingly. He wasn’t much of a talker in this state either. She let it go, and lead him back to bed. They’d lived without them before, during practice. They could do it again. she had bigger priorities.   
—  
Philip woke again around 2. She had been steadfastly sitting by his side, and nobody had come to bother them. Probably WD, she thinks gratefully. “Hey.” He says. 

“Hey yourself.” She responds. “You must’ve really needed the sleep.” She says teasingly, but regrets it when his face closes off. 

“You said, earlier, we needed to talk.” He says hesitantly. 

“Well, we do, but I wanna make sure you’re coherent and cognitively ready to do that.” She responds. 

Philip nods confidently. It wasn’t the first time a migraine had knocked him on his ass all day. There had been others, but he was sure he’d always remember his first. “My first one came when I was 14. I was at horseback lessons, my damned parents insisted, even at that age, and I got a blind spot in my eye. My head had also started to hurt, but I didn’t connect the two. I hadn’t ever had to. I rubbed at my eye until I’m sure it was red, but it didn’t disappear. Not unusual, really, but it got worse before it got better. The ring was brightly lit, but my eyes were doing the strangest things. I tried to tell my instructor, but they didn’t want to listen, they thought it was just a headache. I had to stay the entire time, and of course, I was preparing for a competition, so I couldn’t well leave. By the time I left, straight lines of light were bent to the shape of a rainbow. and the head pain, that was a level I’d never felt before. I remember, I was riding with younger boys, and one had become like a little brother. I think I scared him that day because I said that my head hurt so bad I wanted to pass out. It would have felt better, for sure. And my ever-loving parents had an event I simply couldn’t skip that night, so they gave me enough laudanum to get through it without being strung out and let me escape early. It took 4 years to actually get the diagnosis. I’ve never had one that bad since last night.” He finished lamely. 

Anne held him close and thought about how much he’d endured. She’d pegged him for the typical pretty boy from uptown, but he’d suffered like the rest of them. She had truly misjudged him. They sat that way for a while, Philip slumped in her arms. He was still exhausted, she could tell, and wasn’t up for much. But if she let him throw off his schedule, she’d learned they’d end up right back here where they started. And she definitely did not want that to happen, as these took so much out of him. Eventually she nudged him back into wakefulness. “Philip, we need to eat.” She stated with authority. He groaned, rather content in the half asleep state he was in. 

“D’we have to?” He whined. He sounded so much like Helen when Charity told her it was time to go to bed that she couldn’t help herself. She laughed. His face contorted into a frown and it looked like the kids when the show was over and their parents were pulling them out. She kept laughing. It had been such a long day, she couldn’t help herself. Philip pulled himself up next to her, and smiled. If you couldn’t beat them, join them.   
—  
Eventually, the couple did get to the tent for a while, and joined the rest of the cast. While the others weren’t sure what had happened, the tent was quieter than usual, and for that Philip was grateful. The side effects still lingered after the pain. He could tell everyone wanted to ask what had happened to him yesterday, but they didn’t ask. Everyone here had their secrets, and nobody was pressured to tell. That didn’t mean nobody wondered. 

But if everyone watched him a little closer that night when he went onstage, nobody said anything. Anne watched him closely during the finale, and if she held him a little tighter, he didn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Philips first is actually based in my first one. Except I was in dance class rehearsing for spring showcase when the flourescent lights started to bend like rainbows.


	3. Arguing never ends well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip and Anne have an argument, things get said, and Philip tries to drink himself into a stupor before the headache begins. It doesn’t end quite like he’s used to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this ran away from me.

Philip stormed into his apartment, angry as he could remember in a while. He was pretty sure the last time he was this angry, he was drunk as a skunk one one end of what turned into a wild bender, ending with him joining the circus. 

The circus. The fucking circus. He laughed, but it was devoid of any humor, any joy. Anne had cut deep tonight, her words pointed and cutting. He fell from anger to despair, and felt the pressure building. Well, whoever the fuck said boys don’t cry was wrong. Boys did cry, especially when their girls said he was, oh, what had she said, “a typical uptown pretty boy who would know nothing of what she did, so thank you very much, Mister Carlyle, but I do believe I can handle my own act.” She had finished just as pointed as the first half of the statement, suggesting “he work on his own act, before he became a one-trick pony with a silver accessory.” He’d known exactly what she meant, he always did. He’d worked so hard to get to where he was, hadn’t touched it in a month, and one statement made it sound like he’d been hungover every morning, and out drinking until all hours. She knew, dammit she knew how hard he’d worked. She knew why the habit started, too. Every time his play’s lights had struck him one too many times, every time he’d skipped dinner because of nerves, and halfway through the show the pain exploded, every time he’d worked through the night and not slept for 36 hours, she knew why he drank. 

She was the reason he’d stopped. 

With the emotions running through him, the pressure in his head was almost to the point of boiling over. In the interest of stopping it in its tracks, he searched furiously in his cabinets for the bottles he’d stashed out of sight, to ease the temptation and to keep Anne from worrying. Well, he wasn’t gonna keep her from worrying tonight, not when she’d cut him so deeply. The first mouthful goes down and burns all the way, but the next several soothe both the burn and start to smooth the edges of his vision. Noted, he thought heatedly, any tolerance is gone. How fucking perfect for tonight, though, he thought bitterly. The faster I can get off my face the faster I can pass out through this damned demon. 

Speaking of, it had gone from pressure to the fucking ice pick in the back of his head. He considered drinking harder and faster, get to the point where he was numb, but he was still in his clothes from the day. All of his loose, soft ones were in his wardrobe at the circus, since 90 percent of the time that’s where he spent the days and nights. Come to think of it, his apartment was a bit dusty, he thought as he took another large swig from the bottle. His coordination affected by both the alcohol and the migraine, it took him longer than it should have to get out of his suit coat and shirt. He was left in his dress pants and undershirt, and he supposed that was as good as he was going to get. He stumbled to his bed, and that was being generous. It was more like a baby’s first steps, unsure and wobbly and decidedly not straight. He rammed his ankle hard into the bedpost, and swore as loudly as he could. His neighbors were used to his drunkenness, and were not the type to call in complaints. He collapsed into bed, and wouldn’t rouse for hours.   
—  
Barnum was confused, to say the least. Philip disappeared, and the ringmaster thought he’d seen Philip openly take a large gulp from his flask, which, last he’d heard, had met an unceremonious end in a bonfire. Apparently not, he thought ruefully. Anne wasn’t as concerned as he’d thought she’d be, but to his surprise, WD looked distracted. He hadn’t let it run his piece of the show, but he pulled Barnum aside and told him that under no circumstances were he and Anne doing an encore tonight. Barnum understood and agreed. He could pull Lettie or Tom for it instead. 

Once the finale was over, WD ran to the dressing room and changed in record time. Pulling his coat high over his suspenders, he stalked to his sister’s area. They needed to have a discussion-alone. He arrived just as she was emerging. He grabbed her arm, not roughly, but not kindly either. He walked her to Philip’s tent and pulled her in and spun her around. “What the hell is going on with you and Philip?!” He asked. The anger behind it wasn’t exactly trying to be hidden. 

Anne raised her chin defiantly and asked “What on earth are you talking about?” 

WD practically saw red. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Anne, and goddammit, he’s a part of your life, shit, a part of ours now! You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed him spiraling down since whatever the hell happened between you two.” 

Anne lowered her eyes in shame, but couldn’t protest his statement. 

WD rolled his eyes, closed them, and took a deep breath. Then he started. “Here’s what you’re going to do, Anne Katherine Wheeler. You’re going to stay here, and you’re going to help clean up from the show. I’m taking Barnum and going to check on Philip. The man you claim to love. And so help you god if we find him injured, ill, or otherwise incapacitated because of...whatever happened with you.” He showed himself out of the tent, whipping the flap out of his way. Anne wiped a tear from her eye, and followed. She’d noticed, but had pretended. not to care because she was hurting. She hurt him, he hurt her, it was a huge cycle of hurt. She knew whatever state he was in was most likely her fault. She went quietly to go check on the animals, and prepared to help. Her brother didn’t need to be angrier because she hadn’t listened. sure they were brother and sister, but he was still her parent in more ways than one.   
—  
WD cornered Barnum on his way off the stage. “I need your help.” He said. 

“Give me two minutes to change and let Charity know to go home ahead of me and then you can brief me on the way.”

Once he’s accomplished what he needed to, WD met him near his office, away from any prying eyes and ears. “We need to check on Philip.” He stated. 

Barnum was taken aback, to say the least. He thought it was something far more important than that. “Can’t it wait? I thought it was…” WD’s face twisting with anger had Barnum backpedaling. “Alright, let’s go, where do you think he is?” Rushed out of the nervous man, not sure what was going on, but knowing the Wheelers and Philip had been getting closer lately. WD didn’t talk as he nearly sprinted through the streets. Barnum kept up, and as they got closer they realized they were approaching Philip’s apartment. WD looked up towards the floor Philip lived on and swore quietly. “What? What is it?” Barnum asked. His stomach was starting to sink through the concrete, but he didn’t know why. WD barged through the door, nodding curtly at the doorman. Barnum trailed behind him. 

WD banged on the door. “Philip!” He bellowed. No response. “Philip, come answer this door or I’m breaking it down!” He shouted. He wished he wasn’t kidding. Listening carefully, he heard nothing but a groan. A well placed kick to the door broke the lock chain without breaking the hinges. WD slowed his pace when he got inside. Barnum hung by the door, unsure. WD saw exactly what he didn’t want to once he reached the bedroom. There was a trail of clothes leading from the kitchen to the bedroom, including Philip’s tie, shirt, hat, shoes, and coat. There was a suspiciously empty-looking bottle rolling next to the bed, and on top of the bed was the man of the hour. WD noted the way his head was dug into the pillow, and the way there wasn’t even a candle lit in the apartment. There was a blanket tangled around his torso, and a large pile of it was over his ear that was facing up. He turned to Barnum, and left no room for question. “Go and get me Anne. Tell her to bring the clothes for Philip. She’ll know what you mean. And before you go, bring me water and a couple cloths, please. As cold as you can get the water.”

Barnum, unusually quiet and accommodating, didn’t question it and located them quickly. Rushing out the door, he closed it carefully behind him. 

“Philip, I know I haven’t done this before, but I think you’re gonna have to trust me. I’m sorry about whatever my sister did to get you here, but you guys have a love stronger than anything. I’m pretty sure you can get through this.” He said. When Philip started to squirm from the noise, WD became silent. Philip relaxed. Resigning himself to his job for the moment, his first idea was to get Philip comfortably arranged on the bed. He propped him up on his side with the pillows, and disentangled him from the blanket and rearranged it over him. Finally, he put a wet cloth on the side of his head. Not sure what else he could do, WD sat and waited. It didn’t take long for PT to return with his sister. HIs blood began to boil at how out of control they’d let this get. 

“Barnum I already told you I don’t want to be here!” Anne stated loudly from the doorway. Easing himself out of the bed, he strode to the front room. 

“You think Philip wants to be stuck in bed, sensitive to everything? You think he wanted to start drinking to pass out before it got too bad?” He starts. “WE will continue this in a minute.” Turning to his boss, he was much calmer. “Thank you for your help, PT. You can go on home, if you want. We can handle it from here.” 

Phineas nodded. “Send for me, if you need me.” He responds. He turns on his heel and leaves. 

WD turns back to his sister, eyes tired and posture slumped. “Come check if I did this right. I think I did, but you know better than me. And don’t think that discussion is over.” He was clipped, efficient, but she could see he was tired. She followed him to the bedroom, and stifled a gasp at the state the man on the bed was in. WD, who normally would have moved in to comfort her, let her absorb the shock on her own. Let her see what she’d had a part in doing. 

“It...it looks right. You even put him on the right side.” She said, a little awed. He’d only helped them a few times. 

“Will he be alright long enough for us to have that discussion?” WD asked carefully. Anne nodded numbly. “Excellent.” Easing the door to the bedroom nearly closed, he rounded on her. “Well?”

She dropped her head, at least she had the good sense to look apologetic. “We argued, and I must have gone too far.” She stopped herself there, not ready to incriminate herself if she didn't have to. 

WD took a step closer, looking far taller than his 6’4” frame. “What'd you say, Anne Katherine?” He practically growled.

Anne knew when he used her middle name she was in deep, deep trouble. She swallowed, and admitted what she'd done. “He was only going to offer a tip on my act, our act, and I told him he may want to work on his own before...he became a one trick pony with...with a silver accessory.” 

WD can barely stop himself from striking his sister. He knows it would make him feel better, but it would shatter their relationship into splinters. “Go sit with him, I can't be around you right now. If you do anything to hurt him, so help me God, Anne Wheeler, you won't see the trapeze for weeks.”   
—  
Anne's first clue that Philip is coming around is the hand that uncoordinatedly makes its way to the side of his head. The next breaks her heart, their argument be damned. He makes a low keening sound, and tears make their way unbidden down his face. Between the migraine she assumed he had before, and the stupor he drank himself into that caused him a headache upon waking, she imagined his head was better off removed from his body. 

“Anne?” He slurred. She could tell he wasn't awake, he wasn't nearly coherent enough. He kept rambling, the pain being enough to loosen his tongue. “I fucked up, I'm so sorry. Please come back to me, I didn't mean it, Anne I'm sorry, please, I didn't mean to. Anne? Anne!” He began to scream her name in distress, and Anne reevaluates whether or not he was really awake. She decides to solve her own problem and pulls him upright, holding his arms tightly to his side and calling to him, her volume be damned. If it hurt, she'd apologize later. 

“Philip, Philip baby I'm right here, I've got you.” Her words ceased his struggling, and she turned him in her arms. Holding his head against her chest, ear pressed against her, she let him calm himself to the sound of her heartbeat. He slumped bonelessly against her, letting her know he is deeply asleep. He appears to be calmer leaning against her, so she lets him stay slumped against her. She thinks back to their argument with him, and she’s embarassed with how low she hit with her scathing words. Now it’s her turn to cry, and apologize for what was said. It was clear, that when everyone was actually rested and ready, there was a large conversation on the horizon. Things were said that needed reconciliation and needed explaining.   
—  
Philip woke the next day, and immediately tried to curl into a ball. He found a warm obstacle, though. It gave him pause, and he tried to recall what happened last night. He remembered arguing with Anne, which is why he doubted that it was her next to him like it usually was. But the size of the hand, as well as the familiarity of the position, caused him to adjust to try to look above him. If he was dreaming, he wanted to keep drinking to stay in this happy state. He groped behind him towards the bedside table for the bottle he thought he left there, and a strangled noise sounded from above him. He looked up in surprise. “Anne?” He asked, confused. Last he knew, they had fought and his only plan for the evening had been to get as drunk as when he joined the circus and try to live to tell the tale. He didn’t expect...this. 

“Hey, baby.” She whispered thickly. 

“How...what...where...who?” He couldn’t settle on a question, and Anne huffed out a laugh through her tears. 

“WD and Barnum noticed you’d disappeared, and came to check on you. WD sent Barnum for me, and WD made me tell him what happened. Philip I’m so sorry for what I said, there’s no excuse, I know that you were sober and doing so so good but I was just frustrated and there’s no excuse.” All of a sudden her words came in one breath and then she was shaking and crying and Philip vaguely wondered who else was here but Anne was crying. Slowing his rushing thoughts, he sat up, bringing a hand to his head-this is one of the reasons he stopped drinking, he vaguely recalls-and embraces Anne with the other, pulling her in tightly. 

When she resists, Philip knows what she’s thinking. She’s thinking she doesn’t deserve his love, his forgiveness, and his affection after what she said. He whispers to her the exact opposite. “Anne, I love you. You are never not going to be deserving of anyone’s love, and affection. I love you, I always will.” His voice was hoarse, and holy hell was his head pounding like a herd of horses, but right now, Anne was more important. 

WD stuck his head around the doorway, and nodded. “Everything alright?” He asked quietly. It was a question poised to both, but there was a suspiciously pointed glare towards Anne. 

“WD, actually...could...could you get the curtains?” Philip asked sheepishly. WD smiled thinly and complied. 

“I’ve made some tea in the kitchen.” WD stated as he strolled out the door. Philip was fairly sure he turned a new shade of pale at the offer. Anne, hearing his hesitance, looked at him. 

“Philip, we...we need to eat. I know you’re not feeling the best, but...not eating will only make it worse, you know that as well as anyone.” Anne stated carefully. She wasn’t sure where she stood with him right now, not with what she had said to him. Philip rolled his eyes, took a mental note that apparently even that hurt right now, and nodded. She was right, even he had to admit that. Skipping meals would make his situation 10 times worse. He prepared to heave himself out of bed, and when he tipped forwards towards the floor, Anne was right there next to him to catch him. “C’mon, it’s not a dance we haven’t done before.” She said tiredly. 

“Did...did you sleep? Last night?” He asked. God, his head hurt. 

Anne shrugged by way of reply. When he stayed silent, she sighed. “I slept some. I could feel WD’s anger at me through the walls. He was so mad, I think he was ready to hit me.” She said, awed and terrified in the same sentence. “He was so mad.” She said again, voice thicker the second time. 

A voice joined them from across the room. “And you know why I’m angry, Anne. You know how hard he’s worked to get to where he is, and you accuse him of it anyways, flaunt it in front of him like he hadn’t let the habit go.” There was no judgement, no anger in WD’s voice, but his disapproval was clear. 

Anne nodded, a tear hitting the wood floor. “Flip, let’s get you to a chair. This can’t possibly be making you feel any better.” She says, trying to avoid having this conversation while her Philip is trying not to hit the floor from inability to stay up. “We can discuss it over tea?” It’s asked as a question, but they all know it’s a statement. Philip nods, notes that hurts too, and practically collapses in the nearest chair. Anne looks at him worriedly as she slices bread to go with the tea. Philip lays his head down on his arms and closes his eyes. “Oh, no ya don’t, ‘lip.” WD jokes. He gives him a hearty shove to wake him up, and presents him with the tea to keep him occupied. 

Once everyone is seated, the discussion begins. “Anne, what you said hurt. You, more than anyone, knew why the drinking started. You know the story, and you still chose to throw it back in my face about something that was completely unrelated. It hurt. A lot. I’ll admit, when I came home, I knew this would disappoint you. But since you didn’t trust me anyways, I thought you wouldn’t care. And that...really hurts.” Thankfully, Philip had thought this piece through. He knew eventually there would be discussion. However, he hadn’t expected it to be over his scarred table. 

Anne starts then. “There’s no excuse in my words. They were uncalled for, untrue, and I knew they would hurt. At that point, that had been my goal. But I didn’t expect to end it like this.”

WD’s face couldn’t have been any more shocked. He couldn’t believe his sister would purposely use her words to hurt Philip. However, he stayed silent. This was their discussion. 

“Anne, I love you, and I just wanna help. But next time, please don’t brush me off. It hurts, but it hurts less than those words. I’m working so, so hard. Everyone knows that. Please, don’t do that again.” He pleads. He couldn’t take this again. 

Anne is crying again, and Philip limps over to her to embrace her. She turns into him, head dug into his hip, a position they’ve mirrored before with him in pain, and they just stood for a few minutes. Eventually, WD realized that the hand on the table was getting heavier and the arm was starting to shake. 

“C’mon, Philip. Let’s get you back to bed to sleep this off. Don’t need you collapsing again.” He says, an attempt to be jovial. It falls flat. With support, the two rearrange themselves in the bed, Philip’s head pillowed on Anne’s shoulder. 

Philip shuts his eyes, and is asleep. Anne doesn’t take long to follow.


	4. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When emotions run high, blood pressure goes up, causing vasodilation. 
> 
> Philip really should've expected it the moment the door slammed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Migraines are caused by the blood vessels in the head expanding, and while i have yet to figure out why it hurts, it does, and so yeah. Have my experience from Saturday night of the Wizard of Oz projected onto philip because I need an outlet so i kind of hurt the kids. sorry.

Philip had had an argument with Barnum-when weren’t they - and they had a show that night. Heated words were exchanged, and Philip and PT had both been angry...really angry. 

Really, Philip should’ve expected it the moment Barnum slammed the door.  
—  
He and Anne had found time to be alone together before the show, and she caught on immediately to what Philip was trying to do. It became obvious when he lifted his glass of water to his head.

“Philip?” Anne asked, rushing to his side. 

“Barnum and I had an argument, things were said, and really i should’ve expected it.” Philip responded. He knew by now that Anne wouldn’t wait to ask what happened, and figured spearheading it would lead to improvement far faster. 

“Philip...the show...what are we going to do?” Anne worried. 

“It starts shortly,” he said, looking at his pocket watch. “With ice and dark between, I can do it.” He finished confidently. 

Anne looked at him skeptically. “We’ll see about that.”  
—  
Anne watched him during the opening, and noted the way that he wasn’t quite closing his eyes, but he was close, squinting. She stumbled over her own steps with concern for him, but managed. As soon as they were off, she retrieved ice and a cloth and met him at the entrance. He closed his eyes and ceded control to her to lead him to somewhere quiet and comfortable. He found a space by the doorway where the lights didn't reach. Anne sat with him quietly, just being there. He had a while before he had to be on again.   
\---  
Philip started to come back to himself. At least, he could keep his eyes open. “Philip?” Anne asked quietly.

“I...I think we caught it in time.” he responded hesitantly. He was always wary of putting the cart before the horse. 

Anne let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. “Thank God, Philip, I was worried.” She rushed out.

“The aura’s disappeared. That’s always the disorienting part. And it was really...really bad tonight.”

Anne stayed quiet, and Philip continued.

“There were triangles, and wavy lines, and a blind spot. It was horrid.” 

Anne embraced him. He’d never know that she’d waved off several members of the troupe, silently begging for quiet and peace. She didn’t even know how she’d been found. This was basically “Philip’s corner”, as she thought of it. It was always where he’d be found if he was hurting. 

“Thank you. I know I don’t say it enough...but thank you.” Philip whispered into the silence.   
\---  
By the time the finale came around, Philip was almost back to himself. The lights still burned, but it was less so, and he made it through the routine. 

Falling into bed that night was a relief. He wrapped himself in the blankets, and Anne curled him into her. A soft hand at the nape of his neck, warm and familiar, made him even more tired. 

“Sleep.”

He did.


	5. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip has a nightmare. As always, Anne is there for him. But this time, she grapples with her own demons as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm back again! I'm coming with a new story, similar to this but with a different plotline. I know, I know, everyone is desperately hoping for an update on Made to Be Mine and Left Behind, i promise, they're coming eventually. They will NOT be left without resolutions.

Anne woke to Philip tangled in the blankets, red and sweating profusely. He cried out in..fear? Pain? Anne couldn’t tell. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She reached behind her for the water pitcher and the cloth, soaking it. She wiped down his face and neck, reaching for his chest. 

He gasped, a strangled sound. 

Anne whispered shushing, comforting noises in his ear, stroking his hair and rubbing soothing circles across his back. 

Philip cried into her shoulder. “I...I can’t stop seeing it!” 

Anne held him as he desperately tried to get his breathing under control. 

“I can’t…I can’t breathe...anne?” 

“You can, in, and out. Just in and out.” 

His hand came to his temple, and Anne bit back a curse. “My...my head, owww…” he moaned. 

Anne laid him down, released his hold on her dress, and retrieved the medication. 

He reluctantly swallowed the medication, and miserably rolled away from her. She curled around him, radiating warmth onto his now-cold body. He fell asleep quickly, the medication assisting his slumber. 

Anne, however, struggled. She had the same dreams. 

They all did. They’d all relived that moment in their dreams.  
—  
Anne stayed awake until the caravan lightened around her. Philllip half rolled away in the night, sprawled like always. She shook her head fondly, carefully climbing out of the bed. She got into her practice clothes and went into the rigging. 

She relished in the silence, and considered the evening. 

Damn his parents, she thought. 

Damn the protestors, while she was at it. 

She set herself spinning slowly as she thought. 

“Annie!” The nickname meant someone had been calling her for a while. 

Specifically, WD. 

“What, WD?” She said angrily. She wasn’t angry at him, just in general. 

“Come down. Please?” His tone was imploring, nearly begging. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m Not letting you close yourself off, and you’ve been up there for hours.”

Anne would wonder how he knew, but he was her brother. He always knew. She slowly lowered herself, not really wanting to come down. 

“Happy?”she snapped at her brother.

WD chose not to bite, and lead her to the seats. “What happened?” 

Anne took a breath. “Phillip...he had a nightmare, and, God, WD, I’ve never seen him cry like that. And of course, the crying lead to a headache. I couldn’t sleep, so I came in here. It’s not fair.” 

WD couldn’t decide if she was talking about their life, Phillip, or something else. 

“I know.” He paused. “It’ll be alright. I promise.” 

Anne had little choice but to trust him.


End file.
